BREAKING THE HABIT

If it weren’t for the mole on Aaron Denton’s dick, I’d be a lot happier, I
guarantee you. That mole has been bothering me ever since third grade,
when I saw him piss in the woods.

“What?” he said blankly, looking around at our horrified stares, not
realizing he was doing something completely unnatural.

The rest of us were just hanging it out, taking a regular piss through our
zippers like sensible people, but not Aaron. Shit. Without even giving
it a second thought, Aaron unzipped his jeans, pulled his pants down,
right to the knees — (aaack!) — and started shooting a gusher all over
the trees.

The rest of us guys didn’t know what to say. We all just stared at him,
like he was the craziest fucking lunatic on the planet.

“What?” he repeated. “Why’s everybody looking?”

“Dude,” I motioned to him calmly. “Your ass is showing.”

He looked pretty unfazed that his golden globe nominations were hanging
out in the breeze.

“So what?” he mumbled. “It’s how I piss.”

“Whatever,” I shrugged.

We zipped up and let him do his thing.

It’s a free country.
__________________________________________________

My name’s Cory Darrington. I’m 12. Aaron’s name is Aaron Denton. He’s
12, too.

Some of you people like your names and ages right up here in the front of
the story. So, there they are.

Whatever.

Knock yourselves out.
__________________________________________________

Now, I’d be lying if I told you that Aaron Denton’s dick didn’t fascinate
me.

It did.

I took one of those mental photographic snapshots — and no matter how
hard I tried to shake it — it wouldn’t let me go.

I mean, I saw everything.

Tiny little dick. (No offense intended. Mine was, too).

Balls like a sack of pennies.

Snow-white ass, with a tan line showing above the waist.

And a god damn mole on his pecker!

Not a big one. Just a mini-mole. But located right toward the top of the
shaft — just below the tiny mushroom head. As he stood there peeing,
pinching the middle of his stalk between two dirty fingers, you couldn’t
help but notice it.

In third grade, your friends’ dicks are a dime a dozen.

But a mole under the head…?

Now that’s something worth remembering.
___________________________________________________

So, Aaron and I became best friends. Anybody’s who’s got the guts to pull
their pants down in front of three other guys, expose a dick mole and say
fuck the consequences, is all right in my book.

We wound up in the same class in fourth and fifth…and had a lot of
classes together in sixth. We’re in seventh is this year, in case you’re
wondering.

Some of you like the school grades up front, too.

What is it with you people?

We’re kids. We’re in school. Relax. Life goes on.
___________________________________________________

The habit?

Well, what do you think?

It’s jacking off.

God, I must do it 45 times a day.

Have you ever jacked off so many times your dick gets all puffy and
stretched-out under the head?

I mean…you try to take it easy. You use spit. You use lotion. You use
Vaseline. You walk into the kitchen and your mom’s baking cookies and you
stare longingly at the Crisco.

But no matter how careful you try to go, you wind up the next morning with
that red, puffy, diseased looking penis — the one that looks like you
just ran it through a meat grinder.

I’m 12 now, and I’ve whacked more times than those guys in the lumberjack
contests.

My dick hurts all the time.

But, oh my God, I can’t keep my hands off myself.

“Half-hour, half-hour,” I whisper to myself, through clenched teeth. I
try to space my sessions out so I REALLY don’t overdo it.

My shaft is usually a mess of scraped-off skin. Getting hard-ons is a
major medical condition.

Code blue in Cory’s room.